Page 9 of The Bond That Burns

In one night, everything had changed. I wasn’t merely a student or Blake’s consort. I was once again his prisoner.

I’d only been in the tower one time, at the start of the First Year, when I’d been wounded by Visha. Blake had brought me to see a healer.

Now I looked around me more carefully, taking in the grand stone archway carved with coiled dragons that led into the tower. The dragons’ eyes glinted with rubies that reminded me of Viktor Drakharrow’s cruel red ones.

Blake led the way into a large open hall that I assumed was the Drakharrow common room. Unsurprisingly, red and black were the accent colors here instead of the deep blues and soft grays I was used to in the First Year tower. Chandeliers of wrought iron hung above us. The walls were lined with dark wood panelingand decorated with ancient weapons and crests. Relics of battles fought for the glory of House Drakharrow, no doubt.

The room was a little foreboding, but I could see it being cozy enough with time. Right now the space was empty, but a blazing fire roared in the massive stone hearth even though it was almost summer. Comfortable armchairs, sofas, and chaises, all covered in soft red velvet, were arranged in a variety of positions to facilitate study and conversation. Banners of deep crimson and black hung from the ceiling, proudly showing off depictions of red dragons or bearing the house motto “Sanguine Vinciti.”

Bound by blood. My lips twisted. The words seemed to mock me now more than ever.

Around the common room, students’ chairs lay empty. A few were even overturned. Books and other possessions were scattered over sofas and tables. The room had clearly been abandoned quickly in everyone’s haste to reach the courtyard earlier. Most of the students must have been in the midst of packing. Tomorrow morning they’d be returning home for Summerfell.

Blake led the way towards the stairway, pausing only briefly to snap at a few students who had snuck out of their rooms and were peering down curiously at us from one of the balconies.

They vanished quickly at their House Leader’s command, leaving an uneasy silence. Blake moved at a steady pace, his back straight and steely. I followed, hardly able to look at him without feeling a fresh wave of anger.

We reached a landing, and I noticed a door ajar with three faces peering out. Blake didn’t even have to speak. The glare he shotthe students was enough to send them scattering backwards with panicked squeaks.

The door slammed and we were alone again.

Blake’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look back or speak as we climbed another spiraling staircase.

I watched his hand trail over the stone railing, carved like a dragon’s tail, rubies embedded into the scales of stone. In some ways I had an intimate knowledge of that hand, those fingers. But that part of us was over.

Finally, Blake stopped outside a door. He opened it, stepping aside to let me walk in first.

Lanterns had been lit and a small fire burned in the modest-sized hearth. The room was unexpectedly spacious, with a large, canopied bed draped in soft red fabric patterned with dragon scales. Tall arched windows lined two sides of the room, overlooking the darkened school grounds and the sea beyond the cliffs.

I glanced over at Blake, arching a brow. “So, this is my cell.”

Blake’s lips twisted into a small smile. He looked back at me, his gaze holding something uncertain. “It was meant to be your room all along. You’re just occupying it sooner than expected.” He nodded towards the windows, gesturing to a wood desk already set with parchment and quills, then to the shelves lined with books. “I’d already had it prepared and waiting for you.”

The room was elegant. Beautiful even. The rug beneath my feet was soft and plush. Black, with a motif of gold, silver, and red dragons. I saw a wardrobe off in the corner, no doubt already stocked with clothes in my size, all in House Drakharrow colors.

I should have been grateful it wasn’t a dungeon. But no matter how elegant it was, it still felt like a cage.

Blake gestured to one of the walls that lacked a window. “You’ll find my suite of rooms beside yours.”

My lips twisted. His and hers. How sweet. “Wonderful,” I said, in a voice that made it clear it was anything but.

Blake frowned. “There’s a private bath through that door,” he said eventually, pointing. “The windows let in a lot of light in the winter. You’ll have a good view.”

“Is that all?” I watched his face fall. “Are we finished?”

He was, without a doubt, still maddeningly attractive. The slight shadow of blond stubble along the angles of his jaw. His gray eyes that once made my breath catch. He looked at me now with an intensity that seemed meant to draw me in. But it didn’t matter what he looked like. He’d proven he was the monster I’d known he was all along. The connection between us that I’d slowly been accepting had been severed. He’d taken something from me that could never be restored. Not just blood. Trust.

Blake cleared his throat. “Medra, I—”

“Don’t.” I cut him off, my voice chill and unyielding. “And I’ve already asked you not to call me that. We are not friends.”

His face darkened. “You’re still my consort.”

That might have been true for now. But bonds could be broken.

“You can call me whatever you want. But it’s meaningless. After what you did tonight, you’re nothing to me.” I stepped towards the bed, putting my hand firmly on one of the posts. “I’d like you to leave. Now.”

I could see the flash of hurt, then the flicker of anger, before he schooled his expression.

---